


Safe Harbour

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for ts_ficathon Sense of Cliches, my prompt was Nightmare/comfort and Hearing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Harbour

## Safe Harbour

#### by Moonglow

Author's website: <http://www.livejournal.com/users/moonglow11066>  
  
  
  


* * *

Blair cracked one eye open and found himself looking at tangled brown curls on the pillow next to him. Flexing his arm, he found it wrapped around a slim waist while his knees were snug against smooth thighs. Pulling away a few inches, he eased out from under the sheet, trying not to disturb his bedfellow. 

"You don't have to sneak away, Blair." Claire Morris turned over and laid a soft hand on his back, waiting for the tension to ease out of the stiff muscles. "I didn't want to disturb you, Claire. I've done enough of that lately." "You know you're welcome here anytime, honey, but I think it may be time to get professional help." "But you're nearly qualified, and I really can't afford..." "Blair," Claire interrupted, "this has been happening on and off for the last three years. If you want my professional opinion, I think it's time you faced up to the fact that it's not me you should be talking to." She threw the sheet back and came round the end of the bed to sit beside him, pulling him into her arms. "Yeah, right." Blair snorted, burying his face in the crook of her neck, "I can just see that happening." "Why not? They've got councillors at the station, surely?" "Yeah, but..."  
"He'd understand, honey, I know he would." "You don't know him."  
"But I know you, and from what you've told me about him I don't think he'll hold it against you." "Claire, I had enough trouble being accepted at the station because of the way I looked; can you imagine how it would go down if they knew what a wuss I was?" "Needing comfort after a nightmare isn't being a wuss, honey. But I hate to see what this is doing to you." She stroked her hand up and down his back, "How much longer are you going to keep following him around, hmm? Until he gets you killed?" "Hey, now just wait a minute.." Blair pulled back and frowned at her. "No, you wait a minute. Ever since you met up with Ellison you've been kidnapped, shot, poisoned, terrorised and nearly drowned! Every time you end up back here because you can't stand him knowing about the nightmares and worried he'll feel guilty about it. Well let him feel guilty, Blair! Let him see what this is doing to you and let him deal with it!" "I...I'm sorry you feel like that, Claire. I..." he stiffened and pulled away, but Claire pulled him back into her arms. "I'm sorry, honey, but you're my best friend and I love that you can come to me with this...god knows you've given me enough information for my own work...but do you really want to be in therapy for the rest of your life?" "Hey, I'm used to it," Blair joked feebly and shrugged. 

Claire sighed and slowly rocked backwards and forwards. She'd known Blair since their undergrad days when he'd minored in psychology and joked about the time he'd spent in therapy over the years standing him in good stead. It had been a meeting of the minds and their relationship had remained strictly platonic, even though he'd flirted constantly with her. She had her own suspicions as to why his relationships never got further than a few weeks; his commitment to Jim Ellison didn't leave any room there for a woman. It was a shame that Blair's usual confidence didn't extend to realising what was under his nose. 

"Come on, Blair. We've both got classes today so we'd better hustle." She let it go for the time being and very generously let him have the first shower. She'd have to think seriously about breaking Blair's confidence and having a word with Detective Ellison. She'd met him a couple of times on campus when he'd collected Blair when his clunker broke down and at first glance she'd drooled a bit over him. 

Claire snorted as she remembered being introduced as 'Blair's sanest friend'. Ellison had smiled charmingly at her but his body language had changed when Blair had hugged her goodbye, confirming their coffee date later that week. She was an expert at reading subtle signs, and Ellison was showing classic signs of possessiveness over Blair, even that early on in their partnership. 

But, Blair was being stubborn about taking her advice, so maybe it was time to take the 'cruel to be kind' stance and not be available next time he called begging for a place to recuperate. God, she could shake that Jim Ellison sometimes for being such a blind pain in the ass. The damned man could see for miles but he had a blind spot six inches under his nose right where Blair was. 

* * *

Jim Ellison rolled his neck, trying to ease the tension that had been lodged there for the last couple of days. Their last case had been a bitch and Jim had been glad to see it closed, even if it meant knowing that Blair would disappear for a couple of days to see Claire. It was always Claire. Claire this, Claire that, Claire the Sane, Claire the fucking Saint; because she always took him back. 

He brought up her face in his minds' eye; short dark curls, wide green eyes, bit more meat on her bones than Blair usually went for, but overall a very attractive package. He'd met her a few times and he'd seen a definite spark of interest in her eyes at first. That had cooled pretty quickly though, for some reason that he couldn't quite figure out. He'd been around the block a time or two, and women didn't just flirt one day and then become almost hostile without a damned good reason. 

If he didn't know better he'd guess she saw him as a rival. He snorted derisively at his weird thoughts; yeah, right, like he could compete with a pair of tits. Blair was supposed to meet him at the station this afternoon when his classes finished, and there was a stack of reports waiting to be typed. Jim glanced at the clock for the tenth time that morning and decided it was time for a break. 

Getting himself a packet of chips and a reasonably fresh coffee, he wandered back to his desk, stopping to chat to Joel on the way. "Jim, I've left a message for Blair on your desk." Rhonda passed them, "can you make sure he gets it?" "What am I, his secretary?"  
"It sounded fairly urgent, that's all." She shrugged. "Okay, okay, I'll make sure he gets it." Jim rolled his eyes and went back to his desk, eyeing the folded piece of memo paper displayed prominently in the middle of his desk. Shoving it to one side, he pulled the stack of reports over and opened the top one, booting up his computer with the other hand. 

It was an hour before he gave in to the temptation of sneaking a look. He justified it by telling himself he needed to know if Blair was going to be home tonight; after all, the fridge was nearly bare and he'd have to go shopping if he was. Checking that no one was looking, he flipped the corner up and scanned Rhonda's neat writing, squelching the slightly guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach. What he read made him smile and start to plan his shopping list. 

* * *

Blair slumped in the corner of the elevator and closed his eyes. The morning had gone from bad to worse and all he wanted now was to hide in the break room and take a nap. The only problem with that was the danger he'd go under too deep and start dreaming again. Two nights spent in Claire's bed being held through the nightmares had done nothing to ease them this time. Short snatches of sleep combined with a punishing workload for both of them had seen Claire snapping for the first time. 

Maybe she was right and he should see a professional; either that or he'd have to take a break from the roller coaster and retire to the merry-go-round for a while. Yeah, that may be the solution, he thought, get himself centred and things put into perspective. Having made the decision to take Claire up on her offer of recommending a therapist, he straightened up, trying to find a little bit of energy left to deal with Jim and the never-ending pile of paperwork. He was feeling seriously burnt out and considering contacting St Sebastians if the therapist didn't come up with a solution. 

Jim was at his desk and lifted his head as Blair pushed through the swing doors. Seeing him for the first time in three days, Jim was shocked at how haggard the younger man looked. Dark circles were smudged under tired blue eyes and he was almost being weighed down by his backpack, his feet dragging slightly. Dialling up his hearing, he carefully monitored Blair's vitals to see if he was ill; he damned near looked close to collapse and Jim wanted to be forewarned. 

Apart from a slightly elevated heartbeat, everything checked out okay, so it wasn't anything life-threatening. Thinking back to what was written on the note, he decided to try not to antagonise Blair; he wanted him to come home tonight, after all. "Message for you, Chief." Jim nudged the piece of paper towards him as Blair sat down and listened as his heartbeat spiked and started thumping frantically. "You okay?"  
"Yeah, Claire has to go out of town for a couple of days." "Not bad news, I hope."  
"No." Blair scooted forward and grabbed a file, "Looks like it's you and me tonight, unless you have a date?" "No, no date. How're your classes going?" "Fine, midterm madness, you know."  
"Claire has a place near Rainier, hasn't she?" Jim thought that was the reason Blair sometimes stayed with her, because he was unwilling to admit it might be because they were getting serious. "Yeah." Blair wondered where this line of questioning was going; Jim had never been interested in his friends before, unless they turned out to be criminals. "You..uh..spend a lot of time there."  
"Is that a hint, Jim?"  
"What?" Jim swivelled round in his chair to stare at his friend. "That you want me to move out? I know I've been living with you a lot longer than a week..." "Hey, hey, hey, I don't want you to move out!" "Oh. Okay then." Blair swallowed back the lump in his throat and stared at the dancing letters in front of his eyes. Damn, he was tired, and he didn't know if he could really concentrate on these reports. "Look, Chief, why don't you head on home and get some sleep?" Jim reached over and took the file away from him. "No, I'm fine, really."  
"You're dead on your feet, Blair. Go home, get some rest. Then maybe you can come in with me in the morning." Jim urged him out of his chair and carried his backpack for him over to the elevator, risking an arm over his shoulder to steer him through the bullpen. 

"Hey, Hairboy, you look like shit." Henri Brown emerged from the elevator. "Hi to you too, H." Blair grimaced and held out his hand for his bag. "No, seriously, you ill or something?"  
"No, just tired. I'll see you at home, Jim." "Sure. You want Thai tonight?"  
"Sounds good." Blair leaned against the wall and let the doors slide close on the two worried-looking men. "Jim, my man, I suggest you look after your partner a bit better." H shook his head at Jim. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
"Means what I said, because if you don't, he's gonna work himself into an early grave." A stricken look crossed over H's amiable face as he remembered the near miss they'd had with Blair a few months ago. "I'll talk to him." Jim promised and turned back to his desk. Maybe if he got his paperwork done he could persuade Simon to let him take a couple of days off; maybe even get Blair to skip a few classes and they could take off into the mountains, try to get back to where they could stand to be in the same room together even. 

* * *

Blair stood under the scalding spray; hands braced against the back wall, hoping that it would relax him enough to get a solid nights sleep. He was so tired; just eight hours would be enough to recharge his batteries for a while, and then maybe he should sit down with Jim do the unthinkable; talk about his feelings. 

For years he'd flitted from one girl to another, taking what was freely offered, but unwilling to let them get under his skin. Maya had come close, but her beauty and innocence had made him feel protective towards her, which in turn he had mistaken for deeper feelings. Claire was his longest surviving relationship, but that was only because he hadn't had sex with her. 

And then there was Jim. Big, macho, Jim; his best friend and probably the most stabilising influence in his life so far. Yeah, there had been an element of hero-worship in the beginning, but you can't worship a man that puts his pants on one leg at a time, belches and uses the toilet the same as everyone else. He'd seen Jim at his best and at his worst..he hoped he'd seen him at his worst because he'd hate to be blindsided by it if he hadn't..and it still took his breath away when he looked up in the morning and saw Jim sitting there, bedhead and all. 

Shit, for a minute there earlier on, he'd really thought that Jim was going to kick him out again. It had been gratifying the speed in which Jim had reassured him that he didn't want him to move out, and if he hadn't been so tired he would have appreciated the warmth that had spread through him. 

Blair squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden rush of hot tears, pulling in a shaky breath as he berated himself for his weakness. That Jim still wanted him around was a miracle, unless it was because he had a misguided guilt complex over Blair dying. Savagely twisting off the water, Blair dried himself with cursory swipes of a towel and dumped it in the hamper, wringing his hair out with another before letting it drop to the floor. 

Walking naked through the loft, he fell across his bed and buried his face in the pillow, finally succumbing to exhaustion. He didn't hear the sound of a key in the lock or bags hitting the counter as Jim went about the process of preparing dinner. 

* * *

Jim could hear the steady heartbeat and slow breathing that indicated Blair was deeply asleep. He put the shopping away and then prepared a pot of coffee, breathing in the fragrant fumes before going to check on the younger man. Pushing the French door open a crack, he peered into the dim room, eyes widening as he took in the picture of a naked Blair on his stomach, hair spread wildly over his pillow as one hand was clenched in a fist against his chest. 

Jim desperately wanted to reach out and take that hand in his, unfold the fingers and hold it against him in a repeat of the gesture Blair had made so many times in the past, but didn't know how to bridge the gap that had grown between them. He let his eyes skim over the smooth skin of Blair's back, noting the new slenderness before being drawn to the two dimples at the base of his spine. Fine, almost golden hairs dusted the curve of his ass, and Jim quickly averted his eyes before he was tempted to put his hand where he was pretty damned sure no man's hand had been before. 

A slight hitch in Blair's breathing had Jim withdrawing back into the living room, holding his breath in case Blair was waking up. When no further sounds were heard, Jim silently made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a coffee. Sitting down at the table, he cradled the mug in between his palms and tried to rehearse what he was going to say. 

After Blair had left the station this afternoon, Jim had steadily worked his way through the stack of reports; working mostly on autopilot as it hit home to Jim how the strain of the last few months was taking its toll on his partner. Henri had been right in one way; Jim hadn't been taking care of Blair the way he should have been. 

He shouldn't have backed off when Blair had disappeared to Claire's on their return from Sierra Verde; he should have chased after him and talked it through, but the overwhelming sense of guilt over choosing Barnes over Blair had kept him silent. Everyone had taken their cues from him in their treatment of Blair since his return. Even Megan hadn't said anything, so was it any wonder that Blair had withdrawn back to his academic life more and more? Did he feel that he'd given up enough of himself already and that they didn't appreciate him? 

Jim clenched his hands around his mug and shuddered at the sacrifices Blair had made for him. He'd been dead, for Christ's sake! Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to calm down, but it wasn't working. His stomach churned and he would have given his eye teeth now for someone to break into the loft so he could shoot them. This was one time he wished he was back in the jungle where he was surrounded by nothingness. There, he could have hiked up to the high point above the tree line and let rip with a primal scream. 

For the first time that evening, a smile curved Jim's mouth at the thought of what Blair would make of that. He'd lecture on about the primitive need to reinforce the sentinel's identity with his tribe and then drag him off into the mountains so Jim could fulfil his need. Maybe, just maybe, if he got it right, they could take off together and Blair could do a little screaming for himself. 

* * *

It had grown dark and Jim had eaten before he heard the first stirrings from Blair's room. He switched off the television and put his beer bottle on the coffee table and then moved carefully over to stand outside the French doors. He could hear Blair moving restlessly on the bed so he pushed open the door a little to see if he was awake. Unconsciously zeroing in on his heartbeat, he could hear it racing in time with the almost panting breathes coming from between Blair's parted lips. Jim watched as Blair's feet tangled in the colourful bedspread and his clenched fist jerked open as he grabbed at a handful of the same. 

He started forward to shake him awake just as Blair twisted off the bed and landed on his hands and knees, chest heaving in a desperate effort to draw in enough oxygen. "Blair!" One step had Jim down beside his partner, running frantic hands over his shoulders and arms, trying to lift him back up onto the bed. 

Panicking, still not quite awake, Blair shoved him off and scrambled to his feet, stomach churning. Stumbling towards the door, he wrenched it open and dived for the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet in time for him to throw up whatever he'd eaten for lunch. Shivering, he clung to the bowl, trying to breathe through his mouth before retching again as the remnants of the nightmare surfaced in his mind. "Chief?" Jim draped the afghan from the sofa around his shoulders and gently drew his hair out from underneath before crouching down beside him. "Give me a minute will you Jim?" Blair hung his head, letting his hair obscure his face. "Here, drink this." Jim ignored him and passed a glass of water under the fall of hair. "Should I call a doctor? How long have you been feeling like this?" "Can't a man puke in peace?"  
"Not if it's you, no." Jim took the glass away and helped Blair to lean against the bathtub. He wrapped the blanket around him and resolutely kept his eyes above Blair's waist; he'd seen more skin tonight than he had in the last three years and it was fucking distracting. 

Blair closed his eyes; Jim was going into mother hen mode, he could tell, and that meant he wouldn't budge until he'd discovered what was wrong with him. He'd be lucky if he got away without a visit to the ER. He pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped the afghan tighter around him, trying to ignore Jim crouched close by. "Why don't you brush your teeth and I'll make you some tea?" Jim gently squeezed his shoulder and stood up, leaving the bathroom door open so he could keep an eye on him. 

While the kettle boiled, Jim went into Blair's room and found a clean pair of CPD sweats that Blair had appropriated, and as much as he'd like to see more naked Blair, he wasn't sure he'd be able to concentrate enough to find out what was wrong with him. Going back to the bathroom, he saw that Blair hadn't moved from his position against the tub. "You want a hand getting these on?" Jim waved the sweats at him and Blair lifted his head, giving Jim an incredulous look. "I think I can manage, Jim." Blair uncurled himself, and using the tub as a prop, lurched to his feet. The blanket slipped from his shoulders and for once he didn't bother to be modest. He'd already exposed his weakness; he might as well go all the way and expose his body. 

Keeping his eyes lowered, he missed the appreciative look in Jim's as he pulled the sweats over his legs, frowning as the too big pants hung on his hips; he was sure they'd fitted a lot better only a week ago. Hitching them up a little, he pulled the top over his head, hugging the soft material around his body and breathing in the just-washed scent of the special fabric softener he insisted they use. Letting his arms drop, he slid past Jim and went to sit on the sofa, tucking his feet under him. He watched silently as Jim made the tea and brought the mugs over to the coffee table. 

"So." Jim sat down next to him and let his hands drop between his spread knees. "So."  
"You had me worried there, Chief. Are you sure I don't need to get you to a doctor?" "I'm not ill, Jim." Blair shrugged irritably. "You could have fooled me."  
"It's nothing I haven't dealt with before." Blair seemed to shrink in on himself at the look Jim gave him. "Before? How long has this been going on?" "Look, just leave it alone, will you?"  
"It'll help if you just talk to me about this." "Yeah, right." Blair snorted.  
"How many times have you said exactly the same thing to me?" "And look where it gets me." Blair pointed out; "You never talk to me, so just back off, okay?" "No, I'm not going to back off. We'll sit here all night if we have to." "It was just a dream, Jim."  
"Dream? I'd say that was a nightmare, Chief." "So? You get used to them."  
"What? How long have you been having them?" Jim looked horrified. "On and off, about five years."  
"But you've only known me for three and a half." Jim couldn't believe he'd just said that. "Nice ego you've got there, Jim. Not everything that gives me nightmares can be directly correlated back to you." Blair hugged himself tighter, "Nearly being decapitated by the Nwombuto tribe comes a close second to drowning." "I...didn't know..."  
"Yeah, well, it's not something you bring up in everyday conversation." Blair stared down at his knees. "I've never heard you." Jim looked helplessly at his friend; how could he have missed this? "White noise generators are a marvellous invention, and Claire's been really understanding." "So you can go to Claire but you can't come to me, your supposed best friend?" Jim raised his voice angrily. "She's trained to deal with this, man. Anyway, the last thing I wanted was for you to think you had some neurotic kid tagging after you. You didn't need that." Blair hugged the corner of the sofa again, dropping his head down. "I still can't believe you assumed I would think badly of you." "Well it's not like you haven't done it before." Blair lifted his head defiantly and the silence stretched out between them, eyes clashing. Jim's were the first to drop. 

He leaned back and scrubbed a hand over his eyes, knowing the time had come to have that talk. Blair swallowed and then jumped in feet first. "I didn't want you to feel guilty." He started, scooting closer to Jim. "So you didn't say anything." Jim said, "Have they been bad?" "Sometimes. I don't remember a lot."  
"And...Claire...helps?"  
"She lets me ramble, yeah, and she doesn't mind me using her as a security blanket." "So you go over there and what, sleep in her spare room?" Jim said hopefully. "Ah, no."  
"Sandburg..."  
"Look, she's one of my oldest friends, Jim, and this is one relationship with a woman that I haven't screwed up with sex." "Not even once?"  
"Never."  
"So what happens when she's not available?" Jim thought back to the note earlier on. Blair shrugged and hugged himself; he doubted very much that Jim would volunteer to be a teddy bear. "Come here." Jim leaned forward and took hold of Blair's wrists, pulling him inexorably towards him. 

Leaning back, he settled Blair against his chest and wound his arms around him. "You're not the only one who has nightmares, Blair." "But they don't seem to bother you."   
"Yes, they do. But a certain person nags me to talk about things, so I don't get them that often. He's also got a habit of waking me up and keeping me company, too." "Sounds like a good friend."  
"He's the best. Shame he doesn't feel like I can return the favour." "I'm sorry."  
"So am I." Jim slid down a little and put his feet up on the sofa, manoeuvring them so they were stretched out side by side. He rubbed a hand up and down Blair's back in a soothing rhythm, nuzzling his cheek against the wild curls resting just below his chin. 

Blair listened to the steady beat of Jim's heart under his cheek and cautiously brought a hand up to rest on his chest. He was rewarded by a tightening of Jim's arm around him and another nuzzle. For a moment he felt guilty for laying his neurosis on Jim, but he'd never felt as secure as he did at this moment in time, and if Jim wanted to hug him, he wasn't going to complain. 

Actually, Jim's hand was slowly working its way under his sweatshirt and the rubbing had turned more into a caress. This, in turn, was causing Blair's libido to sit up and take notice and he tried to ease away before Jim made a comment abut table legs, but Jim hooked his ankle over Blair's top leg and drew it between his, effectively entangling them together. 

Jim smiled as Blair's 'happy' smell wafted up to him. It was something that was uniquely Blair and it had permeated the loft before it had started to fall apart on them. It had been missing lately and Jim was sure it wasn't just him that had been affected by the lack of it. Now it was back, and it was there because of him. He ran his hand under the sweatshirt, the silky skin under his fingertips a delight to his sense of touch. When Blair didn't pull away, he became even more daring; sliding his hand under the waist of his sweats. 

"Uh, Jim?"  
"Hmmm?"  
"You want to tell me anything?"  
"Only that I missed this."  
"Hate to tell you this, Jim, but I don't remember snuggling on the sofa with you before." "No, your smell."  
"Oh, shit, I didn't clean my teeth enough, did I?" Blair tried to move away but Jim clamped his hand on Blair's ass to keep him still. "Not that smell, Chief, this one." Jim twisted suddenly and buried his face in the crook of Blair's neck, taking a deep breath of essential Blair. "Um...I just want to point out that...oh god...that's a hot spot for me, Jim." "Is this a problem for you, Blair?" Jim drew back and looked into slightly dazed blue eyes. "No problem at all."  
"Good." He bent his head again and nibbled along the length of Blair's neck, eliciting a soft, breathy moan from him. "I don't want you sleeping with Claire anymore, Blair." "Okay, but the nightmares aren't going to go away overnight, Jim." "So you sleep with me from now on."  
"Friendship can only go so far, Jim." Blair pulled away, scanning Jim's face to see if this was just another guilt trip for him. What he saw there melted his bones. "This isn't just friendship anymore, Blair, not for me." "Nor me."  
"So let me do this. Let me keep the nightmares at bay for you." "Oh, Jim." Blair lifted his hand to the back of Jim's neck and tugged him down. Pressing a soft kiss on his mouth, he waited for Jim to respond. He didn't disappoint; opening his lips and sweeping his tongue into Blair's mouth to take control. 

Long moments later, Jim drew back and then rolled off the sofa, pulling Blair up with him. "Time for bed, Blair."  
"Are you sure about this, Jim?"  
"Never been surer." Jim held him close, "Only good dreams from now on, Blair, and that's a promise." 

End 

* * *

End Safe Harbour by Moonglow: moonglow11066@hotmail.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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